


What Could Have Been

by DigitalThespian



Category: Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson
Genre: Gen, Heavy Angst, I dont know what to tag this as honestly, I'm so so sorry, Moomin has a bad time, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unrequited Love, this popped into my head and I was like 'welp'
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-17
Updated: 2019-06-17
Packaged: 2020-05-13 08:09:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19247221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DigitalThespian/pseuds/DigitalThespian
Summary: Moomintroll sat at his workbench, and he made things.Moomintroll was successful, and he made things.Moomintroll made things.And he was alone.





	What Could Have Been

**Author's Note:**

> If you're here for my usual happy ending goodness please for the love of the gods turn back now this one is not a happy fun time

"Moomintroll.." Snufkin turned away. "You know I can't stay. You know I can't live my life in one place like that."

"I _know_ that, I just- I love you, Snufkin! It hurts so much to see you go, and every year it hurts a little more, and I don't know what to do!" Moomin hung his head.

"..I'm sorry, Moomintroll. But... I _have_ to go. Goodbye." Snufkin turned and walked away, fading into the distance as Moomin watched, his heart breaking.

He waited on the bridge the next spring, but Snufkin never came. Spring turned to summer, which turned to fall. And still, Snufkin never came. Moomin tried to hibernate, but he was sick with worry and longing for his friend. What if something had happened to him? What if he.. What if he finally decided he'd had enough of Moomin?

Moomin whiled away the hours trying to learn something to keep him busy, but he could never find a craft that could keep his mind off of Snufkin. The next spring came, and his family came down to find a collection of various little wooden carvings, whittling having been Moomintroll's most recent endeavor. Then they found the bucket of small wooden hats, each one a rough carving, but still clearly the same conical shape of Snufkin's hat...

The bucket that was for kindling and other things to start their fires.

And then they found Moomin, whose coat had lost its shine, who looked haggard and weary and lonely, and his parents rushed over to care for him, only to stop short when he held up a paw.

"Please just.. leave me alone. It's not going to get better, so I have to just get used to it." He stood, slowly, and made his way out of the house, taking a satchel with his whittling tools. He wandered to the far end of the valley, where few ever tread, and sat beneath a tree. He pulled a block of wood from his bag and started carving.

Hours passed, and Moomin inspected his work. Better, but not good enough. He put it in his bag, and pulled out another block. He repeated this process a few times, then packed up and went home when the sun began to set. He took the rejected carvings out of his bag, and put them in the bucket with the rest of the kindling. He sat at the dinner table silently, steadfastly ignoring the concerned gazes of his parents, and left without a word when he had finished eating.

He did this every day for a season, until he finally felt the carving was good enough. He sanded off the rough edges, painted on a thin layer of resin to protect it. When he got home, he set it on his bedside table, and unpacked his whittling bag.

He never whittled again.

Moomin learned to make things. Anything you could imagine, Moomin could usually fix. He was quiet, polite, but never jovial. The people of the valley were shocked; he was fine last fall, what happened? Some even suggested he had been replaced by a fairy, or some such.

Moomin paid the rumors no mind, he simply fixed what needed fixing, and made what needed making. He never added any embellishments, nor did he make anything that didn't serve a purpose. Anything that wasn't fit for work was broken down to be re-used; if it couldn't be, it was destroyed.

The winter came, and again Moomin did not hibernate. He sat in the kitchen, sketching floor plans for houses, taking measurements and tightening screws. After he ran out of things to fix in Moominhouse that weren't noisy, he trudged out into the snow in his cloak, and fixed things in other people's barns, or sheds, or anything he could get to without needing to speak with anyone. When spring came again, the valley was in an uproar over the myriad of repairs, about how sweet and selfless and kind Moomintroll was.

He would simply nod, and take his tools and go. He never smiled, and he never said anything if he didn't need to. The year passed much the same as the one before, except word had spread about his skills, and people came from surprisingly far off to make orders for a sturdier pair of hinges, the wind catches it and it slams shut, you know how it is.

He would nod, write down the order, and return to his work.

He was quickly one of the most sought after craftsmen in all of Moominvalley, _and_ the surrounding areas. He didn't like the attention, and put up a sign and a mailbox outside of his shop- for he had needed to build a workspace to call his own once he outgrew the tools Moominpappa had available- instructing customers to please write their orders and put them in the mailbox if the order did not need any special instructions.

As the years passed, his renown grew, and he began to take on building projects, providing everything a body could need to build a house, and ensuring everything was assembled properly and securely. Some say he was able to build an entire house in a month, though many were skeptical.

A decade passed, and Moomin's parents still didn't know what to do about their son; he had never been the same since Snufkin left, but should we really try to press the issue? He always just says "it is what it is" and goes back to his work. He's successful, yes, but he isn't _happy_.

Moomin didn't pay them any mind either, and the light in his shop could be seen long into the night more often than not. His coat had faded to a dull grey, and his paws had patches where the fur didn't grow from when he had burned himself at the forge. He had been fixated on progress, and cared little to treat the burns besides making sure they were cleaned.

Pain wasn't really a big issue for him, anymore.

Another decade passed, and Moomin had grown bitter and reclusive. His reputation as a grouch was second only to his reputation as one of the finest craftsman the world had ever seen.

He sat at his workbench, and he made things. Little My had needled him one day about why he never took a break, about why he never talked to anyone. It was the last time anyone attempted to pry; Little My was shocked when Moomin slammed a fist on the table, rounding on her with a fury she had not known Moomin to possess. He pointed at the door, his voice thundering in the enclosed space. " _GET OUT OF MY WORKSHOP, AND NEVER COME BACK!_ "

He got his wish. The only people who visited were his parents, who he patiently tolerated, but no more. Snorkmaiden had long since left the valley, and he had banished Little My. Moomintroll was alone, and he made things.

He sat in his workshop, surrounded by the largest business Moominvalley had ever seen, and he made things.

One day some years later, someone knocked on the door, and Moomin grumbled to himself. They would leave soon anyway, there was a sign for a reason. The knock sounded again, and Moomin sighed, calling out for them to come in. He heard footsteps, but he didn't turn. "What do you want made?"

".. _Moomin_?" Moomin's ear twitched, the voice was familiar, but he couldn't quite place it. "What.. What happened to you?" Moomin turned with a scowl on his face, and stopped in his tracks when he saw who was standing in his shop.

It was none other than Snufkin; after more than two decades, he had finally returned to Moominvalley. "Huh. So you're _not_ dead." Snufkin flinched as something flew past him, landing on the other side of a shop with a crash. " _WHAT THE FUCK_?!" Moomin screamed, " _It's been more than twenty years, and you think you can waltz into my shop like NOTHING HAPPENED_?"

Snufkin stood with his arms at his sides, looking at the floor. "I.. I'd heard about the master craftsman in Moominvalley, but people started to say he was mean, and reclusive, and that he never smiled. I couldn't believe the Moomin I knew would-"

"Go to hell, Snufkin." Moomin snarled, and Snufkin's head shot up, a look of horror on his face. "The 'Moomin you knew' died after you never came back," He held out his arms to the sides, gesturing to the shop and himself. "and now all that's left is this. What you see is what you get. So either order something or don't, then get the hell out of my shop." He turned away, and Snufkin watched as he wordlessly sat back down at his bench and went back to work.

Snufkin stood frozen, unable to move under the weight of what he had done. Moomin had lost everything that made him.. Well, Moomin. Now he was a bitter old man with a legacy, and nothing else.

He walked out of the shop, but as he left he spotted a small, carved figure sitting on a small shelf, tucked away in a corner.

It was a beautiful, meticulously carved rendition of a wedding, carefully preserved under a layer of resin. It was clearly old, at least a decade, possibly more. There were two figures, one with a bowtie and a top hat, the other in a long tunic with flowers in carved relief. They were joined at the hands, facing each other. Snufkin had heard Moomin never made anything artistic, but this was incredibly detailed. He must have bought it at some point.

Then Snufkin noticed who the two were, and he felt his heart shatter. The one in the bowtie was a young Moomin, a smile on his face and tears in his eyes. The other.. was him. He was smiling, and his eyes were crinkled at the corners. The base of the carving was engraved with four words.

'What Could Have Been'.

**Author's Note:**

> will i ever stop titling my works after the dramatic one-liner ending
> 
> probably not


End file.
